Page 108 of The Moon's Fury
When she finally had her fill, the canteen dropped from her hand. A heavy sleep weighed down her eyelids, and she was powerless to stop it.
Her headached. That was her first thought when consciousness slowly found her.
Wherewasshe? That was her second thought as she opened her eyes. She squinted, ready to fight against the bright sun, but instead, a canopy of green leaves framed the sky. Tall, leafy trees shot up around her, forcing the proud sunlight to diverge into tiny, thin rays begging for passage through the gaps between leaves. It was peacefully quiet, silent almost, save for the gentle whispering of the wind.
She sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes. There was a small firepit nearby with a skewer fixed over it. Farther away, Najoom was tied to a tree, head cocked curiously in her direction. Her blanket fell to her waist. No, not a blanket. It was her cloak, Zarian’s cloak,anda blanket.
A heartbeat later, she realized it wascold. Goosebumps erupted across her arms, and she quickly pulled the layers around her again.
There was a sharp intake of breath, and she turned to see Zarian emerging through the trees, striding quickly toward her. His face had taken a beating—one eye was swollen, an ugly shade of purple, and there were numerous scratches and bruises marring his skin.
Tension radiated from every line of his body. He set down the canteens he was holding and knelt beside her.
“Are you all right?” he asked, eyes tracing her face. He gripped her chin, tilting it toward the scant sunlight.
“I … I think so,” she rasped. “Where are we?”
“The Mountains. On the Shahbaad side.” He uncorked a canteen and handed it to her. She took a deep swig, then another.
“How did we get here?”
He loosed a heavy sigh. “You’ve been asleep for three days.” He looked at her then, eyebrows drawn tightly together, eyes filled with anguish.
As if he were about to ruin her.
“Do you remember anything?” he asked slowly. He moved closer, resting his hands on either side of her knees.
She closed her eyes and racked her brain. They had gone to Shahbaad Palace searching for her mother and sister. Soraya hadn’t been there, but her mother had, along with her grandfather. She pieced together the blurry memories. It felt like looking through the transparent walls of Soraya’s greenhouse in Alzahra—sometimes, it would be so humid that the glass would fog up and distort the view.
“We—we found my mother and grandfather. We left with them, but the Medjai were waiting for us.” She looked to him for confirmation. He nodded, his face impassive. “Then, we fought them. I used my light. And—” Her face scrunched up as she struggled to make sense of the blurry images in her mind. “And your friend, he fought with us.”
“Kharteen,” Zarian supplied, nodding. He waited, his wary face dappled with sunlight.
“And then…” She trailed off. A thick, barbed tendril of dread slithered through her veins, leaving deep gouges in its wake.
And then he slit my mother’s throat.
“My mother…” she breathed, eyes wide and quickly filling with tears.
She threw herself into Zarian’s arms.
He was ready.
He had been waiting.
She sobbed against him, resounding wails that sent birds fleeing from the branches overhead. Her shoulders shook with the force of her grief, violent shudders that rocked her body.
Zarian held her for nearly an hour, murmuring softly in her ear and rubbing circles against her back. Even after her tears ran dry, she rested against him, limbs weighed down by despair.
“Did you bury her?” she whispered, her voice hoarse.
“We did. I braided her hair myself.” He brushed his lips against her forehead. “She’ll go into the next world with a crown. Where your father is waiting.”
She didn’t respond, her grief burning a gaping hole in her stomach.
Before Shahbaad, the last time she’d seen her mother was right after she’d accidentally blasted Ebrahim with her light. Hadiyah had looked at her in fear.
The last time she’d spoken to her mother had been through a door. She had barricaded herself away after the incident—when Hadiyah came to check on her, she’d refused to let her in, afraid of losing control again.
